


Pushing Limits

by Ivyfics (ivannab)



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Bad Dragon dildo, Blowjobs, Dildos, Getting Together, Jealousy, M/M, Mutual Pining, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Porn with Feelings, Porn with minimal Plot, Rimming, Sex Toys, very mild
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-08-28
Updated: 2017-10-16
Packaged: 2018-12-16 04:16:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 10,431
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11821053
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ivannab/pseuds/Ivyfics
Summary: He expected to find Tooru hurt.He's not.Heiscrying. He's just.Naked from the waist down. Riding a dildo.





	1. Prank Not-Prank

**Author's Note:**

> This was supposed to be just porn but feelings happened, as they do.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hajime walks in on Tooru. Feeling ensue.

It started, as many things do, with a slip of the tongue.

Tooru should know better by now than to say anything that hasn’t been completely thought out in front of Hanamaki. He forgets, sometimes, that his friend will go to any lengths to take whatever has been said and turn it into something entertaining.

Entertaining for himself, he means.

For everyone else it can be a train wreck.

It’s hard to police yourself when Iwa-chan is spiking with his sleeves rolled up, which is why he doesn’t think when he says, “Makki, you useless dildo,” at Hanamaki giving him a wedgie while he’s trying not to salivate at a sweaty Iwa-chan.

It slips his mind until this moment, tired and wanting into his clean uniform, when he opens his locker to find nothing other than the biggest dildo he has laid eyes on, pink tip included.

He knows exactly who put it there and why the second he becomes aware of its presence and he has no one to blame but himself.

It doesn’t help that for the last month he’s had incriminating conversations with Makki that include certain _preferences_ and things he’d like to try, and that the _thing_ is hitting all of them.

Makki slides up next to him, leaning on the closed metal door of the locker next to his. His voice is teasing in a way that tells him he knows exactly what he’s doing to Tooru. “Watcha got there cap’n.”

Trying to will his face into not combusting,  he clears his throat and turns. “Makki. In front of the kids?”

He tries to sound as unaffected as he can, closing the door of his locker slightly so it’s not open all the way and keeping his voice down.

“Whatever do you mean?” With pretend shock, Makki sticks his head in Tooru's locker and peeks back out, some wiggling going on where his eyebrows should be. “Oh, what’s this? Naughty."

"Makki, how could you!" With a hiss, he gets closer to Makki until they are almost chest to chest, trying to block whatever view there might be of the inside of his locker, "What if someone sees this?"

"You mean what if ‘ _Iwa-chan_ ’ sees it?"

The thought has his heart racing and the blush he had been mostly successful at willing away coming back in full force. "Makki!"

"Maybe he'll finally get the hint that you like dick and do something about it. "

"How–"

“What’s going on?”

Iwa-chan’s voice is usually welcome but not while his face is at least three different shades of red and his locker is showcasing a cock. Tooru jumps slightly at the sound and slams his locker shut harder than entirely necessary, making everyone who wasn’t already looking in their direction stare at them for a second.

They see Hanamaki with a shit-eating grin, Tooru impersonating a tomato and Hajime with a stern look on his face, so they discount it as the third years playing around as usual and keep about their changing for class.

They still have a full day ahead and Makki is evil.

Hajime looks good, as he’s wont to do, that with his muscles and his hair and his face and his everything. Frowns and narrowed eyes aren’t something people pull off easily but Hajime does.

Makki raises a pink eyebrow at him, taunting him to rat him out and actually, physically, say the words _huge pink dragon dildo_ to Iwa-chan’s face.

Obviously, Tooru would rather die.

Taking a step back from where he and Makki where almost plastered together, he puts on an easygoing smile. Maybe this one will fly under Hajime’s radar. “Nothing, Iwa-chan.”

He doesn't look convinced. "Right."

An awkward silence fills the space between the three of them until Iwa-chan coughs and says, "I'm going home early today, I've got that eye thing with my mom."

Tooru had forgotten about that. "Is auntie alright?"

"It's not a big deal, they just need someone to go with her. Letting you know I'm not staying for practice."

Relief floods him at the thought of Hajime and the dick of death not being in the same room at the same time. That just seems like a combination he can't deal with just yet unless he wants to walk around with a half-chub for the rest of the day. Hajime smells good, straight from the shower and it’s messing with his head. "Alright."

They both stand there, Tooru unwilling to open his locker while Hajime is anywhere near and Hajime looking at him like he’s lost it a little. "Aren't you going to get changed?"

"What?"

"Changed? For class."

Tooru swallows, throat way too dry. "Yeah. Class."

Hajime looks at him for a while longer, shaking his head and giving him an odd look, glancing between him and Makki before leaving the room. "Don't be late for class, idiotkawa."

Tension leaves his body and Tooru’s head thumps against the metal door of his locker while Makki laughs in the background. He has to wait until everyone, except Makki who has stayed behind to revel in his misery and to complain about _‘Issei being clueless, how much longer do I have to wear these tiny shorts,’_ leaves to open his locker.

The sight of it is just as startling as the first time, only now the blush on his face is not mostly embarrassment.

The rest of the day is just as bad.

Now that the whole shock is wearing off, all he can do is think about the huge slab of tiered silicone in his locker. He left it there instead of putting it in his bag in case someone saw it but he's wishing he had taken it with him. He wants to run his hands over it and feel the texture, hold it’s weight in his hand.

It's not his first toy.

Shoved in the back of his closet are a couple of plugs, a smaller dildo and a bottle of lube. The most recent one is a small, green glow-in-the dark plug.

The plug had been another gag-gift from Makki after he had wrung out a conversation about his apparently very obvious thirst for Iwa-chan to bend him over. A _'hopefully you'll get laid and Iwa is not small so start experimenting'_ gift.

That's what it said on the card, literally.

In return, Tooru had given him pair of _‘hopefully Mattsun will get his head out of his ass and onto yours’_ booty shorts plus a couple extra things.

Head in the clouds, he spends all lunch thinking about the new addition to his collection. His half-chub prediction turns out to be correct even with Hajime out of the equation. Not that he ever is, really, because somehow all his thoughts lead up to Hajime working that dildo inside of him while Tooru is between his legs sucking him off.

Makki can tell what he’s thinking about and makes it seven hundred times worse, laughing the whole time, conspiratorially leaning in and whispering terrible, terrible things until he's red in the face again.  Iwa-chan has to shove him out of it so that he can finish his lunch instead of just staring at space and thinking about any type of combination that involves him, Hajime, and a bottle of lube.

When the bell rings for everyone to go home, he stalls so that he can be the last one in the locker room. He goes to find Hajime, not wanting his afternoon plans hindered by their regular hang out. "Yahoo, Iwa-chan!"

Hajime glances his way, grunts and continues to pack up his stuff.

Tooru wants to drape on him, get his daily fix of feeling those back muscles shift against him but he keeps his distance. In the mood he’s in, he doesn’t want to accidentally rub himself all over Hajime and make things awkward. "Iwa-chan, do you think you'll be out with auntie all day today?"

"I don't know, we'll probably make it back by dinner. Why?"

 _Oh, I just want to spend the rest of the day sitting on a dildo that Makki gave me as a prank not-prank._ "No reason, just wanted to know if I should start the new series today or if I should wait for you."

Hajime’s gruff response is not helping his whole pants situation. "Don't start without me, you shithead."

"Fine, fine. I'll take mercy on you this once."

Before he leaves the classroom, Hajime speaks up. "Are you sure everything is fine?"

Tooru stops, hands on the doorframe and head tilted to the side. Hopefully, it’s cute enough that Hajime won’t notice his heartbeat pounding at his neck. "Ha?"

"You were... nevermind. I gotta go."

Tooru waves without looking back and power walks to the gym. "Bye, Iwa-chan."

Practice is horrid.

He loves practice, there’s a reason he’s captain.

Only, there’s no Hajime and he’s antsy as hell.

Watching Makki practice receives with shorts that shouldn’t be allowed in the gym helps, especially when Mattsun gets a ball to the head for it. He and Mattsun cross eyes every now and again and Tooru gives him a look that tells him he knows exactly where all his attention is. That’s where it should be, Oikawa picked those shorts out himself.

Having Makki and Mattsun close up as punishment seems fitting if the look Mattsun gives him when he accidentally sees Tooru put the dildo in his bag is anything to go by. He takes out the pink briefs he kept on hand for when Makki did something like this and shoves them sloppily into Makki’s locker, finger over his lips before he winks with mischief at Matsukawa.

Droopy eyes turn wide and go from him, to his bag, to Makki, and Mattsun’s jaw is so tight the boy is going to need a trip to the dentist.

No one could say that Tooru isn’t an excellent friend.

Getting home is heaven.

Finally, he can take it out and examine it properly, no Makki or impressionable turnips in the midst.

Only the tip is pink, fading to gray where it hits the base. Tiered and curved, there’s three thick ridges coming after the tip and swelling into a bulge before it connects to a black base. Just thinking about feeling each one inside him has Tooru squirming where he’s sitting on his bed. It’s hefty on his palm, weigh sinking into his bones and he squeezes it with all his might in anticipation.

A slim tube is coming out from the side, something to go along with the syringe and the bottle of _cum-lube_ he found stuffed in his bag.

Makki is a good friend.  

He’s home alone for today and tomorrow and he’s never been more grateful for his parent’s impromptu business trips.

In his haste he leaves his shirt on. He took a shower after practice, eager to drop everything and just go when he came home, but he takes another to be as clean as possible.  

He takes out some of his other toys, wanting to build up to this one. There’s a navy plug, the smaller-yet-not-small dildo and his already half spent bottle of lube just in case. Setting everything up, he lays back against the side on the bed and on the floor in case the new lube stains fabric and he makes a mess on the bed. He doesn’t have the patience to not be messy.

Pouring some lube on his fingers he starts to stroke himself where he’s been slowly swelling, reaches down some more and starts tracing his rim.

This part is always great, starting slow and building it up. He’s a lot more worked up than usual today, antsy and on the edge. Normally, he’d drag this out, play with himself until all the tension from previous days left his body and was replaced with a different pull.

Today is not about that, it’s about sitting on bad decisions, so as soon as he’s stretched out enough he’s shoving two fingers inside himself and scissoring.

Unbidden, thoughts of Hajime start to surface, as they always do, and he bears down on his fingers until he’s riding his hand and wishing for the digits inside to be thicker, tanner and attached to killer arms with a crooked smile and a bigger heart.

He wants Hajime inside him, wants all of it.

Tooru stays like this, fire pooling low in his belly and muscles taught when he thinks about what’s to come until he’s panting and stretched and ready for more. Not aiming for his prostate is hell but he doesn’t want to come yet.

What he does want is to feel the stretch of the new toy, wants to clench around it and feel all the bumps against his walls. Tooru doesn’t want to hurt too much while doing it so the navy plug comes into play. The widening of it before it tapers off to the flared base makes him bury his face where it’s level on his bedsheets.

With a gasp and a moan Tooru remembers he’s alone and doesn’t have to muffle himself. He can be as loud as he wants. It probably says a lot about him, that his own moans and sounds make him hot. Hajime would make fun of him for it, but he’d expect it.

_Of course you get off on the sound of your own voice._

Deep and scratchy, the way it dips after an entire day of use, Hajime’s voice in his head does nothing to slow him down. Tooru is already moaning and whining on the plug. He can’t wait to hear what he sounds like on the dragon dick.

* * *

Tooru has been acting weird all day.

In fact, Tooru's been acting weird for a couple of days now. Nothing too strange, except he and Hanamaki have been oddly chummy.

Today was... whatever that was with Hanamaki after morning practice.

Why were they speaking low while pressed together against the lockers and then shut up immediately when Hajime came by?

Weird, but whatever.

They can do whatever they want.

He's not the boss of them.

It pisses Hajime off.

What can Tooru say to Hanamaki that he can't say to him? They've been best friends since forever, you'd think Tooru would give him the benefit of the doubt when it comes to sharing shit.

Tooru's been real blushy around Makki, too.

Like today at lunch. Tooru was out of it the whole time they were at lunch but then Makki scooted close and leaned over to whisper something in Tooru's ear until he was bright red. The fuck?

He noticed Matsukawa's grip on his chopsticks tighten at that and, _yeah man, me too_.

Makki was practically sitting in Oikawa's lap. Had they always been so close?

 _He_ never leaned in to whisper in Tooru's ear when it was all four of them.

Wasn't that kind of rude?

He kind of wanted to punch Makki after that, or maybe just shove him until he and Tooru weren't touching but that's a shit move so he kept to making sure Tooru finished his lunch instead of spacing out the whole time, which by the way, what's up with that?

Then there was the whole _how long are you going to be out_ thing.

The whole starting the series they wanted to watch without him was total bullshit.

It makes him feel weird. Like there's something he's missing. Like Tooru’s hiding something from him, which he is. That always makes Hajime feel like shit.

The thought that maybe Tooru's dating Makki now and hasn't told Hajime has been floating around his head for the better part of the day, prompted by Matsukawa asking if he knew anything about it, and it's driving him nuts.

It's making him angry and all sorts of wrong. Tooru would tell him.

Not only that.

If Tooru was going to end up with anyone, it would be Hajime.

They fit. They have this thing where they stare at each other and don’t talk about it. There’s something there, they’ve just never addressed it properly.

Hajime always felt like it would happen naturally.

Going over this by himself isn't going to do any good, so he's just going to put this to rest and actually talk to Tooru. He's not a coward. He can handle feelings and shit.

No more pretending no one's noticed he's been staring at Tooru's ass all practice, or telling himself he doesn’t imagine them living together with a big ass dog or five, or jerking off to him– okay, that might not change but at least he'll do it knowing he gave it a shot by telling Tooru he wants him to sit on Hajime's face. In an emotional way.

He wants to hold Tooru's hand for no reason, whatever.

Which is why, after dropping off his mom at home with his dad to take care of her and changing into comfy clothes, he's climbing the stairs two at a time to Tooru's room.

He's not downstairs hogging the big t.v, which is what he'd usually do when he's home alone.

Hajime slows down in the hallway, brow furrowing. He can hear something the closer he gets to Tooru’s room, but he can't really make out what. It sounds like.... Tooru's crying?

Dashing to the door, he slams it open. "Oikawa!"

All the blood immediately goes to his dick. Getting a boner in ten seconds flat has to be a health hazard.

He expected to find Tooru hurt.

He's not.

He _is_ crying. He's just.

Naked from the waist down. Riding a dildo.

He's sweaty, hair stuck to his forehead and face flushed where he’s on his knees on the floor. There's tear tracks on his face and some fresh ones coming out from glazed eyes, his chest heaving with his panting.

His cock is hard, red and leaking and it's bouncing with every drop of Tooru's hips, rhythm unchanged even after Hajime walked in. He's moaning and gasping still.

_Iwa-chan, do you think you'll be out with auntie all day today?_

Hajime's throat is dry and he's about to make some nonsense apology and hightail out of there to furiously jerk off for the rest of eternity but before anything can come out of his mouth, Tooru is locking eyes with him and extending a hand out as if to keep Hajime there.

Out of Tooru’s mouth comes a moan that makes him throb in his boxers before,  _"Iwa-chan."_

Okay.

Hajime shuts the door behind him and locks it.

Tooru looks overwhelmed, the tears still going steady and he looks good. He never thought a crying Tooru would make him hard, but the more you know. A sense of calm is settling above him now and he deserves all the credit he can get for not losing it when he has the main character of his late night fantasies half naked and fucking himself. Good job, Hajime.

When he's close enough for Tooru to reach him a shaking hand grabs the hem of his shirt and pulls him down.

“Iwa–Iwa-chan, I–it’s too much.”

“You’re still bouncing on it.” He can’t help the awe that escapes when he breathes those words out. The heat. Every mortal that has laid eyes on Tooru has imagined him like this, and Hajime is only human.

“Hajime,” Tooru whines, and it sounds so much like when he’s having a tantrum that Hajime snaps out of it.

Hajime has always been giving. He’s never been selfless. People look at them together and praise Hajime for his patience but when it comes to Tooru, Hajime has always been selfish.

_Call for me, look for me, need me, want me, keep me–_

When he puts his knees between Tooru’s, close enough that his bouncing cock almost stains Hajime’s shirt, he’s being selfish and taking this for himself. “Shhh, it’s okay. Keep going. I got you.”

“Nnnn.” Tooru’s arms around him are crushing, their grip holding most of the weight Tooru’s using to drop himself over and over. One of Hajime’s hands travels to Tooru’s hip, helping him move, aiding the rhythm. The other he wraps tight against Tooru’s chest, holding all his weight for him.

It pushes on the curve of Tooru’s back, makes him cry out something broken. If Hajime’s strength isn’t good to hold Tooru up while he fucks himself on a dildo, what’s the point?

Tooru’s head finds it’s way to the crook of his neck, hair moving with every swing of his hips and he can feel heavy breaths heaving against his skin.“Hajime, feels good, so good.”

It sends shivers down Hajime’s back, makes him crush Tooru harder against him, pulling him close enough for Tooru to be rubbing against him, from his belly to the top of his bulge and over his sweats, soft fabric of his shirt rucking higher on his frame.

Now Tooru is the one shuddering, keening against Hajime’s collarbone and slowing down his pace to press harder against that friction, latching and sucking between the bottom of Hajime’s jaw and the side of his neck.

Every suck sends a throb straight to his dick, bulging and twitching every time Tooru’s drags over it. The hand on Tooru’s hip tightens, holding him longer when he’s against Hajime. “How long have you been like this?”

“I don’t know. Since I came–hah–home?”

No can do. Hajime makes Tooru still. This does not go over well.

Tooru’s hands around him tighten, his body going rigid but still being held up by Hajime’s arm. “No, no, no, don’t–why, why are you stopping, no,” he whines and looks even tearier at the cold stop, but holds himself how Hajime wants.

Something inside him is happy, curling in contentment and so pleased that Tooru is so, so pliant in his hands. That he’s letting Hajime take care of him, letting him be a part of this when he could as easily have not.

Knowing Tooru won’t move his hand slides down, passing by Tooru’s ass with a quick squeeze that has Tooru sighing out against him and gliding over to the meaty part of his thigh above where he’s kneeling. Plush gives into his grip.

Oikawa is thick. Hard and sculpted muscle underneath a soft layer of fat that has withstanded as many squats as Tooru had been physically able to do. Hajime loves it. “Your knee, Tooru,” he murmurs, “don’t want it to hurt.”

“It won’t, it’s fine Hajime, don’t stop please–”

But that’s not true. It’s been awhile since Tooru has been home by himself and kneeling for that long while riding a cock can’t not be stressful for his knee. “I won’t. Can I move you?”

“Yes, yes, yes. Anything.”

He moves Tooru’s hands to the back of his neck and places his palms under Tooru's cheeks, spreading him once before starting to lift him.

Hajime lets him drop once ever so slowly on textured silicone, watching as Tooru takes ridge by ridge and moans at every one before pulling him back up and off. Tooru is loud and he’s perfect.

The floor is as messy as you’d expect, that with Tooru dripping everywhere. A couple of other toys are on a strewn towel behind him. Hajime is not going to think about why they are there and shiny with lube unless he wants to come on the spot at the image of Tooru working himself open, stretching enough to be able to take the girth he had been bouncing on.

There’s something white that he assumes is lube and not cum coating the entirety of the dildo, and a tube he hadn’t seen coming out at the base of the toy hooked to a syringe.

Well.

Hajime smiles to himself, indulging in fantasy while hoisting Tooru up. Tooru gets the hint and wraps his legs around Hajime’s waist.

A chuckle bubbles out of Hajime’s chest at how they are now, like Tooru’s climbing him. It’s not exactly on the order he thought it’d happen but this is definitely something he wanted when he came over.

Their eyes meet for a second before Tooru is looking down, blushing and biting his lip.

He looks bashful and Hajime freezes. “Everything okay? You want to stop?”

Tooru shakes his head before looking at Hajime. His blush deepens _terribly_. Throat bobbing before a deep breath, he says “Iwa-chan...Can I kiss you?”

Hajime.exe has stopped working.

Funny, after every other unbelievable thing that has happened today, this is what makes his brain go up in flames. Tooru who shamelessly kept fucking himself on a fake dragon dick–because even he knows where you get something like this–after being walked in on, who let Hajime touch him and direct him, Tooru who has been the personification of every wet dream he’s had since memory serves, has flaming cheeks when asking for a kiss while he’s hard against Hajime’s chest.

The corner of his mouth picks up and he nods, not sure what will come out if he opens it when there is so much of… _that_ going on.

Tooru’s _fucking cute_ , goddamn it. Hajime is so gone for him it’s not even funny.

He wants to wreck this boy. Wants to bring him pleasure. Wants to hear him all fucked-out and sleepy afterwards, too.

Tooru did ask if he could kiss Hajime, so he stays still and waits for Tooru to make the first move. Quick and light, a barely there pressing of soft lips against his is the answer, and this is getting ridiculous.

Tooru has to be doing this on purpose.

He looks so pleased with himself, too. Smile going expertly with the flush adorning his chest even after turning down the tempo, Tooru expression makes his gut clench.

“So that’s a no for stopping, then?”

“No stopping.” Another kiss. “More.”

Pecks are cute and all but he wants to taste Tooru.

Hajime leans in and captures Tooru’s lips with his over and over until Tooru is sighing against him. He takes advantage of one of those to deepen the kiss, licking into Tooru’s mouth and tracing the roof with the tip of his tongue.

He learns that he loves how Tooru sounds when he’s trying not to moan and how easy it is to make him. That Tooru is a messy kisser and Hajime doesn’t care that there’s spit collecting on the corner of his mouth or starting to drip down his chin because Tooru will just break off and lick it clean. That Tooru is eager, hips circling and rutting slightly where they’re pressed against him.

“Hajime. More.”

Hajime clicks his tongue. “Always so greedy.”

“Why not? You always give me what I want.”

“Spoiled brat.”

Tooru nods, not caring. “Spoil me.”

What Tooru wants, Tooru gets.

Hajime carefully lays him on his back on the bed, ass sticking out and Tooru, the little shit, immediately spreads his legs wide. If there’s one thing constant stretching and PT gave Tooru was a certain amount of flexibility. The view reminds him that he’s been hard against his boxers since he walked in.

Tooru is spread, stretched and slick.

Hajime’s dick can wait.

What can’t wait is taking the smirk on Tooru’s face that says he knows exactly what’s going through Hajime’s mind right now and wiping it right of, so he swirls his fingers through the mess running down Tooru’s thighs and plunges a finger in deep before hooking it on the inside of his rim.

He’s fingered himself enough to have at least some idea what he’s doing.

Smirk wiped right off.

It helps that Tooru is so _easy_. He tells Tooru as much and is rewarded with a moan.

There’s no resistance from Tooru, not after being so properly used before, so he casually slips another digit in, loving how pink lips fall slack and slightly open, brown eyes sliding shut. “Ah-Haji...”

“Hmm?”

“You too.” One of Tooru’s legs come up to rub against the bulge visible through his sweats. “Take it off.”

He’d be happy to have this just be about getting Tooru off but if it’s what Tooru wants…

Clean hand loosening the drawstring of his sweats before pushing down the waistband of his boxers just enough so that his dick springs out, ass half-out, he shivers at the contact of hot skin and cool air.

Tooru groans.

His hands fly to cover his face while he whines. “Ah, fuck me. Of course you have a fat dick. Of course. You just have to be perfect at everything, don’t you, Iwa-chan?”

It’s not like they haven’t glimpsed at each other junk before but the difference between a flaccid dick and a hard one is substantial. Hajime’s a grower, not a shower, and Tooru’s reaction is lifting his ego through the roof.

He laughs because Tooru is bitching about being perfect. Oikawa Tooru.

The same Oikawa Tooru that has to take a separate bag to school on valentine’s day.

That’s plain funny.

Still, it’s nice. He likes that Tooru likes what he’s working with.

He likes Tooru.

This is great.

Leaning over enough to kiss Tooru while helping him keep his ass out isn’t easy, but Hajime can manage with a hand braced against Tooru’s spread leg.

“Not bad yourself,” he murmurs against Tooru’s lips, before straightening up.

He’s definitely doing that more often now if it means putting that awed expression on Tooru’s face.

Slick hand fisting Tooru’s cock, he strokes him slow to work him up again. The small break was enough to calm Tooru down, to release the tension and bring him down from that frantic edge. They can build him back up slowly.

Or at least they could if Tooru had any patience.

“Stick it back in me, Iwa-chan.”

Hajime sighs. He doesn’t know what he expected.

Picking the dildo up from where it was laying on a towel, he strokes it a couple of times. The thing is a lot bigger than he thought it’d be in his hand. From the tube coming from the side is a syringe filled with white. A small push to the plunger has the tip of the dildo beading.

“Hurry up, Iwa-chan. And take your shirt off.”

Setting the dildo on the bed, he leaves himself shirtless.

He feels dumb with a bare chest and his pants halfway down his ass. Hajime takes it all off, bending over to pick up from the ground and throwing it all at a corner.

Turning brings Tooru stroking himself while looking at him. Feet planted firmly on the ground to hold himself up while Hajime returns, hand bobbing lazy between his legs. Sharp eyes bear into him like they want to eat him. Hajime wouldn’t be opposed.

Some other time, maybe.

An evil smile blooms on his face and Tooru spreads his legs again, slowly this time. It’s like a magnet pulling Hajime in until he’s between them again, arm reaching for the dildo without breaking eye contact.

He watches the tip breach slowly.

It’s amazing, watching how easy Tooru opens up. It makes him want to tease, so he does. He pulls it back out, traces his rim before going back in, shallow. Doesn’t let the tip settle in fully, doesn’t let Tooru feel full. He stays like that until Tooru’s pouting, ready to open his mouth and ask for more.

He thrusts the dildo in, up to the first ridge and whatever was coming out of Tooru’s mouth becomes a small scream.

All bets are off from there on.

Tooru becomes a litany of _yes_ and _Hajime_ and choked breaths and keens.  

Hajime wants to see how much he can take, going deeper slowly, holding the toy against his walls until Tooru’s crying again.

He’s beautiful, squirming and red, cock leaking, and Hajime is so hard for him.

Hajime is grinding and rubbing on the slick skin where Tooru’s thigh meets his ass, sloppy enough that sometimes he hits the bumps and ridges that Tooru can’t take. A flash of heat travels up his shaft.

Fuck that feels good.

He wants it slicker so he pulls back and finds the syringe before pushing it some, the responding jerk of Tooru’s hips at the feeling letting some dribble out on silicone. It smoothes out the ride and Hajime’s hips grind down hard against the texture, tip of his cock red and rubbing against Tooru.

He’s not going to last long like this.

Tooru looks wrecked. The flush is back, his mouth is open, back arched off the bed as much as he can with his ass hanging off the edge. One of his hands is holding his leg up to his chest, the other stroking himself. Hajime’s head goes on autopilot for a second.

This is happening.

This is real.

Tooru is about to come all over himself with a dildo inside him and Hajime is going to come all over him.

Tooru moans his name and that’s enough to push him over, hand tightening where he’s still holding the syringe. Closing his eyes involuntarily and riding his orgasm until he’s spent, he doesn’t miss the jolt of Tooru’s body or the mewl that fills the room.

The first thing that hits him is his own cum all over Tooru.

That’s.

He’s going to jerk off to that for years.

His fingers are almost numb as he runs them through the splatters on Tooru’s skin, down to where he’s stretched and dripping.

Now that he’s come it’s probably too tight, so he pushes on the rim a little before gripping the dildo as best he can and slowly pulling it.

He might thrust it back in once or twice, but how can he not when Tooru makes such nice sounds?

When he finally pulls it out completely it’s to see Tooru’s hole stretched, gaping and dripping milky lube.

Correction. He’s going to jerk off to _that_ for years.

It’s dripping down Tooru’s ass and onto the floor.

Eyes looking up to meet with Tooru’s, he’s met with a wet dream. Tooru’s hand is still around his spent cock, cum all over his chest. Hair a mess, rosy, with hazy eyes and a dumb smile.

Hajime’s going to treat himself tomorrow for deciding to come talk to Tooru.

He deserves it.

* * *

They’re on the bed now, hip to hip. Tooru on his front and Hajime on his back while they cool off completely and gather enough willpower to clean up the aftermath. It’s grizzly and if they weren’t having an afterglow moment Tooru would be scrunching his nose and straightening everything out already.

As it stands, Hajime’s about sixty percent sure he’s going to end up carrying Tooru to the bathroom and taking care of the mess himself.

Worth it.

He can feel a snort coming and lets it loose. “Can’t believe I thought you were dating Makki. You were just humping silicone for hours.”

The ugliest guffaw bursts out of Tooru.

“You thought. You thought,” he chokes, his expression between highly amused and horrified. “You thought I was dating Makki?”

Hajime feels his face heat up and falls into his usual frown. “Shut up. The two of you have been really close these past weeks.”

Tooru bumps him with his hip as much as he can when they’re pressed close on the bed, more of a wiggle than anything. Hajime’s eyes get snared in the minute jiggle of Tooru’s ass when he does, hand itching to splay itself on top of it and squeeze.

“Aww, was Iwa-chan jealous?”

Body turning sideways, he lays his palm flat against the meat of Tooru’s cheek and spreads his fingers wide before squeezing.

Hell yeah.

“Yeah. I was.”

What comes out of Tooru is between a squeak and moan. “Really?”

“Yes, really, dumbass.”

Tooru looks shocked at the confession, but he recovers quickly.

His eyes turn hooded, his lip between his teeth. That expression is a warning sign for trouble and Hajime is ready for whatever it might bring. Tooru’s fingers climb up his arm, settling when they reach his collarbone.

“What can I do to make it better?”

* * *

“Think Oikawa fucked the dragon yet?”

Back home and into comfy clothes, Makki’s leg slightly kicks the shin caging him in at the gravely voice in his ear.

He can feel the dip and rise of Mattsun’s chest against his back, tired and sleepy from having to piggyback Makki home after his legs gave out.

“It was expensive as shit. If he hasn’t we can’t be friends anymore.”


	2. Stop Pissing on Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What’s the point of having the good info on your friend’s sex wants if you don’t use it to give him embarrassing but useful sex toys and make him blush at awkward times? 
> 
> Also Makki is pining as shit and focusing on Oikawa’s very possible future sex life makes him not think of his own pitiful fistfucking when the lights are out and he thinks of Mattsun.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Helloooo, this second chapter is the Matsuhana side of the story. Mostly the Hana side to be honest.

Fucking with people is great.

Not in a cruel way or anything, he wouldn’t go that far. He likes bugging his friends and making stupid shit happen.

You could say he’s a _doer_.

In the spirit of all doers around the globe he’s willing to spend his hard earned babysitting cash to make things happen. What’s happening now is the giant dildo he stuffed in Oikawa’s locker.

The idea came a few weeks back, when he was tasked with breaking away the ever dignified captain of his from having his jaw hit the floor when ogling his boyfriend-to-be.

Those two were _a thing_ , y’know?

Give them a year or two of pining after each other in college plus a dash of jealousy here and there, and shit was going to happen.

The thing is this: if Oikawa didn’t go blind every time anything related to the sound _Iwa_ was concerned, he might have noticed how even the simple action of Makki shoving his hand down his pants to make sure his balls had a painful awakening made the beloved vice-captain of Aoba Johsai tighten his fist and put on a frown.

Oh, that is good. Makki could work with that.

He started leaning in on Oikawa more during lunch, stealing him during practice.

What’s the point of having the good info on your friend’s sex wants if you don’t use it to give him embarrassing but useful sex toys and make him blush at awkward times?

Also Makki is pining as shit and focusing on Oikawa’s very possible future sex life makes him not think of his own pitiful fistfucking when the lights were out and he thinks of Mattsun.

He wears the booty shorts with _Eat Me_ on the back and _Drink Me_ on the front that Oikawa gave him whenever he pretends anything he wears actually affects Matsukawa Issei in any way, shape, or form. They help but it’s getting ridiculous.

Focusing on trying to make Iwaizumi jealous it is.

Research says: If Oikawa is thirsty, Iwaizumi is _parched._  

That boy is not happy with Makki at all. Zero.

If he didn’t know Iwaizumi was a stand-up type of guy he’d be worried about getting his teeth knocked in with the amount of draping, whispering, and arm rubbing he’s doing.

Which is why stuffing an expensive as shit dildo with a cumtube inside Oikawa’s locker is his masterpiece.

It took forever to pick out but Makki is a good fucking friend and actually put thought into it with all the insider knowledge from late night thirsty bottom conversations with Oikawa.

Oikawa wants Iwaizumi to pick him up and bend him in half, but then again, who wouldn’t? Everyone is a little–or a lot–gay for Iwaizumi picking them up with his big bara arms, so understandable.

  
Oikawa is also a filthy shit so he wants Iwa to come inside him and fill him up. He was blushing down his shirt when he said that, face buried in a pillow. It was adorable. Makki shared some of his own _‘if Mattsun eats me out and lets me suck him off I will die happy’_ fantasies to make Oikawa feel less embarrassed.

That’s what friends do, they tell each other their thirsty shit because how else are two single hoes like them going to get anything done.  

Oikawa might be a teensy bit of a size queen and he’s one hundred percent going to fuck whatever Makki gives him. He’s okay with that, it’s not weird unless one of them is weirded out and they moved past the the first time the saw each other’s accidental boners. And that one time Makki blew him when they were having a sleepover. It’s all cool.

Bonding over wanting to get fucked by your best friend truly brings people together.

Setting it up isn’t a problem because Makki has learned to be sneaky as shit. He thought he’d have a bigger problem getting rid of Mattsun to be able to pull this off but the object of his affections is nowhere to be found, something that has been going on a lot lately.

Makki’s trying really hard not to think of that, and how Mattsun has been acting weird with him, and how they haven’t been as close these past couple of weeks. He’s imagining that Mattsun can’t look at him in the eye. Totally.

He’s got a dragon dildo’s worth of not thinking about it.

Everything’s been as usual, Iwaizumi pretending he doesn’t want to punch Makki, Mattsun trying to be discreet with his avoidance and failing tragically, Oikawa peeking at his ass in his _Eat Me_ shorts.

Takahiro is a weak, weak man and yesterday he got sweaty and covered in his own filth with Mattsun’s name in his mouth. Pining moments of weakness are the worst. He wears the shorts and waits for his one good deed of the month to take place.

Oikawa’s face when he opens his locker, not expecting to find a fake dick, is all Makki needs to survive this day.

When it happens, it’s glorious.

There are few people on this earth that make full-face furious blushing as adorable as Oikawa Tooru.

Iwaizumi is close enough, and Oikawa’s back is turned just right, for Makki to be the only one to notice how he catches the side of Oikawa’s flaming face, his eyes narrowing before walking over.

That look in Iwaizumi’s eye is good.

Good for entertainment value, not for Oikawa’s ass who is going to be on the other side of that soon.

The whole awkward staring that’s been going on is creepy. Those two should just bone, get that weird tension out of the way.

Iwaizumi leaves and from the corner of his eye he sees Mattsun, already changed, scurrying out behind him.

* * *

Lunch break is fun, so fun. Makki forgets about everything for a while and just has fun teasing Oikawa about how obvious it is he’s thinking about the dildo.

Oikawa’s practically drooling.

The look on _Iwa-chan’s_ face when he leaned in real close and told Oikawa about how he bought it with him in mind because he knows Oikawa’s going to play with it. To please be careful since it was so thick, to stretch out properly and not hurt himself, to take it slow on each ridge.

How nice it’d be to look at it all slick with the lube he got, too.

Makki might be getting murdered soon but it's worth it.

* * *

 

Afternoon practice is great.

Oikawa is falling apart. Mattsun is out of it for some reason and he still won’t look Makki in the eye, which now has moved him past _Sad Makki_ into _Pissed Petty Makki_.

If Mattsun doesn’t want to look at him, fine. He’ll find himself some fun in entertainingly fixing Oikawa’s love life and then have two thousand cats.

He does receiving practice mostly out of spite, partially to show off Oikawa’s last gift. It’s a tad too short to be considered decent but it’s more comfortable than any other pair he’s worn to practice before. They’re black and pink with skull things and it brings all of Makki’s 2005 emo fantasies to life. It makes his ass look fantastic.

Makki has a great ass, he knows. Not like Matsukawa’s lanky, flat butt.

Whatever, that doesn’t even matter.

He’s caught Yahaba and Kunimi staring at his derriere so at least it’s not lost on everyone.

Practice ends and he’s roped into cleaning up along with Mattsun. He knows Oikawa wants to skedaddle the fuck out of there to play with his new toy so he says nothing but does send him a glare.  

They clean up in silence, all up to when Makki is changing into clean clothes, Oikawa’s payment for his new gift hanging pretty on his hips. He likes pink things, okay? His hair doesn’t get that shade magically, don’t insult the hours spent in front of a mirror matching the color of his eyebrows to his hair. Bleaching your eyebrows can go wrong in a lot of ways and both Makki’s mom and Oikawa’s sister can attest that Takahiro is a pro.

Mattsun comes up to him, blank face on. Mattsun’s face does a lot of things, from that half-lidded default expression that is adorable and has the same effect as if Makki had three red bulls and a entire tray of cream puffs, to an assortment of smiles and laughs, all the way to the cackle he lets out at a well executed prank.

This look is odd. He doesn’t know it, and the lack of recognition piles onto the metaphoric raincloud that’s been pissing on Makki since Mattsun begun this whole distancing thing.  

“Hey, Makki.”

It’s the first they’ve talked all day, even after spending lunch and both practices near each other.

Makki puts on his neutral face, the one with the snarky smile and smooths out the waistband of his new shorts. They’re a muted shade of pink, white stripes running along the sides and all the way around the hem of the leg holes. They’re pretty and soft.  “Oh, hey Mattsun. Funny seeing you here.”

Mattsun doesn’t say anything, but his eyes track the movement of Makki’s hands, face going hard before barking out, “Makki. Are you fucking Oikawa?”

Takahiro is shocked. _Appalled_. “Oh my god, you think I’m a top?”

Mattsun’s eyebrows stare at him, angry. “Makki.”

Makki doesn’t even know where to begin.“Where would you even get that,” he sputters.

Matsun stalks closer. “So you exchange dildos and underwear with people you’re not fucking? Funny, we’ve never done that.”

Makki is at a loss. What the fuck is happening? Leaning back on the wall, he tries to make sense of whatever this is. How does Mattsun know about this?

From the tone of his voice he’d say Mattsun is jealous.

Why would Mattsun care if Oikawa exchanges–

The pit of his stomach fall and falls and falls until it crashes.

No way.

Mattsun wants _Oikawa_.

Fuck him, this is worse than Mattsun not wanting _him_ at all.

Clearing his throat, he puts on a sly smile. Watching Oikawa fake these for years taught him a thing or two. “I’m sorry Mattsun, but you’re around two big arms and fifteen years of friendship short of riding the Oikawa train.”

Mattsun freezes, head tilting back and to the side, showing off his double chin. It helps Makki because it makes him look less hot, but it doesn’t because he’s always found Mattsun to be attractive, even when his tongue was lolling out and he drooled over his pillow on their training camps. “What.”

“Sadly, our friend is very much set on his Iwa-chan. Anyway, if that’s all. I’m going to go,” Makki brings up his arms and does finger guns, for some retched reason like the universe having a laugh at his expense, mind panicking and his only thought to leave and never return, not registering he’s not wearing proper leaving attire.

Makki is successful in a capacity of around 20% before he’s being stopped by a limb.

Holy fuck, did Mattsun just _kabedon_ him–

“Takahiro,” Mattsun says slowly, sounding out the words as he says them, “Whatever that adorable head of yours is thinking, stop. Right now. Don’t say that again. Icky.”

 _Takahiro_ and _adorable_ , together, coming out of Matsukawa Issei’s mouth. Makki’s brain short circuits at that, leaving him only enough brainpower to ask, “You’re not in a fit a rage after wildly pining after Oikawa?”

Mattsun does the same face Makki did before, disgusted. “God, no. Are you currently having a sordid secret affair with Oikawa despite knowing that he and Iwaizumi are like two pining years away from officially becoming a thing.”

Makki’s head shakes, much like his amount of chill at the moment. “No, I just get him sex toys in exchange for booty shorts, and mess around to make Iwaizumi jealous.” They stare at each other for a second before he adds, “ Make that between four hours and two pining days from becoming a thing thanks to yours truly.”

A light bulb lights up over Mattsun’s head, much like Makki’s raincloud. His body shudders out a breath, black hair brushing Makki’s neck. Mattsun’s head hits his shoulder, hand wrapping around his forearm for support. “That was on purpose? Fuck you, Hiro. That’s so shitty. I honestly thought you and Oikawa were together or something. I even asked Iwaizumi about it, I was so scared he’d punch me on the spot.”

Suddenly, Mattsun stiffens, hair flailing as wild as his eyes. “Why would you think I was asking for Oikawa?” Mattsun shakes him lightly, his other hand coming off the wall and onto Makki’s other arm. “Hiro, you know. You have to know. There is no way in hell you don’t know. ”

Completely and utterly, Hanamaki has zero fucking clue what the last ten minutes of his life have been. “You’re gonna have to dumb it down for the unwashed masses there, Issei.”

Mattsun looks as lost as Hanamaki feels, meaning they’re going to need a dog search to be able to get to any common ground. “Hiro. Hiro, please. I have been staring at your ass so much. Every time you come to practice in tiny shorts I get hard and have to go away. I’ve jerked off so much in the showers this week. Those _Eat Me_ shorts cannot have been accidental. I can’t look at you in the eye anymore. I owe Kunimi more than I can ever repay in blackmail. ”

“Holy shit, those worked?!”

“So you _were_ wearing them to give me a boner?”

“Yes!”

“Then they worked!” Mattsun pulls away to give him a double high five, big hands in front of Makki’s face.

Makki completes it without thinking, excitement thrumming through his veins. “Hell yeah!”

Where does that leave him? With Mattsun twining their fingers together and bringing them down, pulling Makki closer from where they’re linked. He looks down and then back up. Squeezes Makki’s hands with his.

“Just to be clear, when I get hard for you my dick gets a boner but so does my heart.” Mattsun’s eyes dart down again, chest trembling with a slow breath. “Right now my heart is very hard.”

Makki looks down too, to see what’s happening and is found with his new shorts. Alright, shorts is too big of a word. For the rest of humanity, Takahiro is wearing Pink– both in color and brand–panties.

If  Makki was a dog, his ears would be up and his tail would be wagging. “I can take care of that. Not your heart bit. I mean, yeah I get heart boners for you too, but I meant the boner boner.”

Mattsun laughs, and oh, Makki has missed that so much.“Such a way with words.”

Makki takes back his hands, does wiggly fingers in Mattsun’s face. “Gimme the D, Mattsun.”

“Wooing me with such flare.”

“Yeah, a knight of language. Let me suck you off, dingus.”

Mattsun smiles, “You don’t have to.”

“Last night I jerked off at the thought of you pulling my hair while I had you in my mouth.”

Now his smile turns pained, “But you want to, gotcha. I’m psyched for that, really am, my dick just got way too hard. The thing is,” he continues, moving them closer and tilting his head down, just right to meet in the middle, “I’ve been staring at you so long, if I don’t get my hands on you, Hiro, I’m gonna lose it.”

Makki rolls his eyes, playful. “Says the dude who’s been avoiding me for the better part of a month.”

“I’m sorry, ” Mattsun whispers, but doesn’t come closer, letting Makki make the first move, “ let me make it up to you?”

Makki doesn’t respond, just pushes forward until their lips meet and all bets are off from there. Hanamaki Takahiro has thought a lot about what it would be like to kiss Matsukawa Issei.

It hasn’t been those delusions of fireworks, or a choir singing in the background, or angels descending upon the earth bearing trumpets to match the beat of his heart.

No, Makki has wondered more mundane things, like the feel of his skin where he grips the back of Mattsun’s neck, if it’d be clumsy and teasing like when they sit and talk shit for hours,  if Makki’s lips would be chapped and dry, or if he’d have time to moisturize, if Mattsun would have a problem with the fact that Makki likes to kiss with a lot more tongue than some deem appropriate—

Beyond the fact that Mattsun kisses him just the way he likes, because the way Mattsun kisses is the way he wants to be kissed by the simple fact that it’s his best friend sharing his breath, he feels this enormous relief.

It makes him grip tighter, body pressing closer, hands perching on Mattsun’s back to hold him there while they part for breath. Mattsun, bless that boy, takes a hint and wraps and arm around him, the other coming up to cup Makki’s chin and tilt his head up before he’s diving in again.

Give and take, like them, teasing and playful, Makki nipping here and there where he pleases.

It’s pretty fucking awesome, especially, almost too sweet, because Makki’s days of pining are fucking obliterated.

_Raincloud’s piss, I’d like to introduce you to Matsukawa Issei’s tongue._

Makki’s all rosy and well kissed when they break apart. Mattsun’s hands slide to the small of his back, Makki’s having come up to cup the back of Mattsun’s neck somewhere in their makeout sessh.

It’s been soft, save for Mattsun’s dick poking his leg, and the half-lidded smile Mattsun gives him next. “So were those _Eat Me_ shorts a hint or?”

His hands tighten where they slide to grip Mattsun’s shoulders. Sharp, his lungs fill and he exhales out, “Issei. Don’t toy with me.”

Mattsun’s laugh in his ear is airy, as if he didn’t just offer to make the thing he’s been fantasizing about for months a reality.

Strong hands are holding him tight against Mattsun’s chest, resting where his ass meets the back of his tights, and the grip there changes suddenly. Fingers are slipping underneath pink fabric, just enough to tug at the skin and spread him the smallest amount. “Are you going to let me eat you, Hiro?”

“Yeah, cool, why not. Just. Eat away. Me. Out. Eat me out,” Makki rambles because what else is he going to do. He doesn’t have enough chill in his body to handle this will a witty comeback and a sultry look.

Next time, when he’s got his head on straight and has had time to process everything that’s happened, he’ll be suave and smooth. Knock Mattsun’s socks off with his blowjob and other skills.

Right now, Makki’s going to not do that and deal with things as they come.

Or as he comes.

See what he did there?

Mattsun pecks him before kneeling in front of him. Makki’s dick is interested and catching up quickly, aided by Mattsun nuzzling his clothed crotch. He finds the head of Makki’s half chub, sucks on it through the fabric until it twitches uselessly against his tongue. Mattsun leans back with a smack of his lips. Starts to pull down Makki’s pants. “I really love pink on you.”

Mattsun could either mean his pants, his hair, or his face.

No matter what, Makki will take it. This would be the time for a witty comeback but Makki has none and any chance at one dies the second Mattsun’s tongue makes contact with his bare flesh.

11/10 would recommend, but Mattsun is his, so back the fuck off. Get your own cocksucker.

Mattsun is a tease, pressing wet kisses all over but hardly sticking to one place, Makki hardening against his lips. That’s not his goal, so he doesn’t stay against Makki’s dick for long, spreading him wider with a hand against his calves and placing himself almost fully underneath Makki.

It’s not the most comfortable of positions but is he going to complain? No.

Makki’s hips jut out, helping Mattsun reach better.

That’s around as much help as Mattsun needs.

Makki has only had girlfriends before, so usually he’s not on the receiving end of this.

Wasted time.

What a mistake.

He knows Mattsun has had boyfriends, and that one girlfriend, before. Has been an awkward third wheel on their dates back before he realized he wanted to keep Mattsun all to himself.

Makki needs to send all of them a _Thank You!_ card. He doesn’t know who taught Mattsun what, or who he practiced with, but they deserve all the accolades.   
  
Makki’s legs slide down before they lock in place again, holding him up as best they can given the current situation. Makki’s legs aren’t doing all that great, if he’s honest.

They’re not going to hold out much longer, not if Mattsun keeps doing that thing where he– yup, there it is, Makki’s legs are going down and scraping off some of his dignity with them.  Makki hand tightens on Mattsun’s hair and pulls him off before he’s sliding on the floor, coming face to face with Mattsun who’s still kneeling, looking at him in surprise.

Makki gives a weak laugh, “legs gave out.”

Instantly, Mattsun’s face changes. “So you’re saying. Your palms are sweaty.”

 _Oh, god._   
  
“Mattsun, do we really want to do this. Do we really want to bring this in?”

“Knees weak,” Mattsun continues, giving this hopeful look Makki’s way.

Giving his best fake disappointed face, Makki responds. “Arms spaghetti. I can’t believe you memed while in the middle of eating me out, loser.”

“I can’t not take it, Hiro. You just gave it to me.”

“Yeah, I did. Get on it and make me cum.”

Whatever Mattsun was going to say is lost, stunned.

Throughout this whole thing Mattsun has been all cool and calm and shit, while Makki has been losing his mind. It feels good to turn the tables, to know he’s the cause of the flush adorning the always pale skin, that all it takes is to say what he wants.

Makki grins, letting his arms slide slowly up his legs, spreading them more, and bringing them up until he’s showing off. Makki’s not ashamed of his body. He’s also pretty damn flexible, having taken some ballet when he was younger so that his little sister wasn’t scared to go alone, so he holds his useless legs up with one hand under his knees while the other tangles back in Mattsun’s hair.

“Come on, weren’t you going to make it up to me? Get back to it, Issei,” Makki finishes his sentence with a tug, bringing Mattsun face closer to his cock again.

“You’re going to be the death of me.”

 _"La petite mort_ is a fine way to go,” Makki’s remark ends on a hiss, watching as Mattsun’s face disappears and his hair bobs, sucking all around his length a couple of times before pulling off and laying wet kisses that trail to his entrance, and doesn’t stall at all.

Whereas Mattsun had been teasing and testing before, he dives right in now, pulling involuntary sounds and twitches from Makki and bringing him back to the peak he was at before.

Mattsun’s traces his rim, alternating between that and leaving hickeys on the inside of his thighs. When he’s lose enough, Mattsun tonguefucks him like there’s no tomorrow, hands gripping his thighs to keep Makki’s squirming from  throwing him off.

Makki’s straining, trying to keep it together, but then Mattsun’s sucking on his rim while pumping him and it’s Game Over. He’s coming all over himself and Mattsun’s hand, arm tightening behind his knees and pushing them harder to his chest, hand shooting out to keep Mattsun there to ride until his body goes lax.

Makki’s out of it, waves of that tingly feeling you get when you come spreading out through him, making his muscles heavy. He watches Mattsun take himself out, not even bothering with taking his pants off and start stroking himself, eyes roving over the body in front of him.

Mattsun is so hard.

He’s hard and he’s right in front of Makki.

Waste not, want not.

“Issei,” Makki rasps. Looks at him and opens his mouth, tongue lolling out. An invitation.  

“Fuck, Hiro,” Mattsun moans, getting to his feet and crowding in, ”you’re gonna let me come on you? Rub my cock on your tongue?”

Makki nods, too gone still riding the high to do anything more. Mattsun rubs his slit against Makki’s tongue, spreading his precome. Makki leans forward and wraps his lips around Mattsun’s cock.

In case it wasn’t common knowledge, Makki has sucked a single cock in his life. Sucking Oikawa off was a learning experience in itself, the first time he was up close and personal with a dick.

This is completely different.

This is Mattsun.

He’s wanted to this for so long. Maybe not while he’s blissed out and not able to really go into it, but the image of Mattsun holding his cock still so that Makki can suck on it, bobbing the tiniest bit, is going to be seared into his brain forever.

Being honest, he really doesn’t do much, he hollows out his cheeks and runs his tongue on the underside of Mattsun’s cock and that’s about it.

Mattsun comes on Makki’s chest, pulling Makki off with little protest, some hitting him all the way on his collarbone. He cleans up a stray spurt of cum from Makki’s cheek with his thumb. “Good?”

Makki’s sweaty, his tailbone aches, his legs are twitchy. Arms numb from where he was folding himself in half, he tries to shake them to get some feeling back.

“Bitchin’.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [These](https://dtpmhvbsmffsz.cloudfront.net/posts/2016/08/10/57ab6a748f0fc4d433007c8c/m_57ab6a748f0fc4d433007c8d.jpg) are Makki's pink panties. 
> 
> Sadly, the _Eat Me_ shorts are a product of my delusions. Maybe someday I'll make them translate to the physical realm but for now they remain a figment of my imagination. 
> 
> You can come yell at me on:  
> [Twitter ](https://twitter.com/ivyfics)  
> [NSFW Twitter](https://twitter.com/lilacsparklr)  
> [Tumblr ](http://ivyfics.tumblr.com/)

**Author's Note:**

> [This is the dildo.](https://bad-dragon.com/products/nova) You're welcome.  
>  This are Makki's [ Booty shorts.](http://www.bluemaize.net/im/shorts/skull-booty-shorts-3.jpg)   
> You can yell at me on my[ Twitter.](https://twitter.com/ivyfics)  
> Or my[ NSFW Twitter.](https://twitter.com/lilacsparklr/)  
> Or my (brand new) [Tumblr.](http://ivyfics.tumblr.com/)


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